


Vodka & Wine

by Annie_Eliza



Category: Empire (TV 2015), Empire - Fandom
Genre: Angst, College, Drama, F/M, Multi, Pre-Series, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-04-12 19:51:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4492485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annie_Eliza/pseuds/Annie_Eliza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Andre Lyon always had a problem with letting people in. He never expected it to happen. He really didn't expect to find himself sitting in a bathtub with a white girl he's never met so they could drink vodka straight from the bottle. He didn't expect it to be the best part of his night either. He's only known her for an hour, but she has him doing and saying things he would have never considered doing before.</p><p>A multi-chapter story revolving around the first few years of Andre and Rhonda's relationship</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fall 2004

**Author's Note:**

> This story centers around Rhonda and Andre from ages 18 to 21/22. It will take them from a more sweet, innocent, and idealistic relationship to the harsh realities they end up facing.

“You are so gorgeous,” she whispers after she rolls on top of him to trace his bottom lip with her finger.

 

Still catching his breath after a good fuck, he looks up at her and can see that she’s beautiful too, with her silky black hair, olive skin, and big brown eyes. Really looking at her, he can see that she’s easily one of the most beautiful women he has run into at Penn so far. He couldn’t remember her name if his life depended on it but he had a few shots of tequila before she stumbled into him so he thinks he should be excused for that. Hell, she might not know his name either.

 

“Yeah, you’re pretty too,” Andre tells her with a crooked grin, “What are you majoring in?”

 

“Bio Chem. Dad’s idea. He’s a doctor and has his own pediatric practice. I can work under him during my residency. Dr. and Dr. Malakar.”

 

“Following in your father’s footsteps. I understand that,” Andre mutters.

 

“At least your dad is a superstar. Your family is practically royalty. That must be so cool. You must have everything. Why go to school when your dad is Lucious Lyon?”

 

He feels the disgust bubble up as he sees the dollar signs in her eyes. Of course she knows. Every girl he gets with knows.

 

“You’re a fan?”

 

She shrugs, “Who isn’t? Well, except for my parents. Lucious Lyon is a legend. When my roommate told me you were his son, I had to talk to you. Plus you’re good looking, bound for success because of your dad, what’s not to like? So, how-”

 

“I gotta go.”

 

Andre gets up and pulls his pants and shirt on before walking away from the bed and out the door. He ignores her calling his name out and he ignores the fit he hears her throw.

 

He could go fuck someone else. Find someone pretty and lose himself in the feeling of a sorority girl lowering herself on his cock after he drinks more to get the picture of his father out of his head.

 

Considering how much he wants to impress his father, he sure hates being reminded of him. Maybe it’s because the man he wants to be would mean giving up on the dream of completely earning his father’s respect. It hadn’t pleased his father when Andre had chosen Penn over Empire. Business over music. Or rather, business without the music.

 

Contrary to popular belief, Andre wasn’t tone deaf nor did he disregard music’s importance. He knew how to play piano. He could carry a tune and he actually sounded pretty good. But he lacked the passion for it. He lacked the extraordinary talent Jamal was born with. And, considering that Hakeem was six but still rapped so well that Andre refused to even try it, it was safe to say he didn’t inherit that trait from his father either. 

 

He liked numbers, statistics, investments, and money. He liked all of that a lot. He knows that his father would give him a spot at Empire where he could put that knowledge to use.

 

But arriving at Penn made him question if he wanted to associate himself with Lucious Lyon that strongly. It was something he wanted less and less, especially now that he was living in his father’s hometown. His hometown too. Lucious had said it would be best if he went somewhere where he had connections. Had family. So he chose Penn over Yale and Stanford. Stayed close to home where his father, Vernon, and Bunkie could keep an eye on him on his semi-frequent visits home. His older cousin Marla could keep Lucious up to date when he was here to an extent due to being on the advisor team at Wharton.

 

He just thought he could escape the man for one second. Under the sheets with a pretty girl should have been the place where his father shouldn’t factor in.

 

But then he remembers that being Lucious Lyon’s son is the main part of his appeal.

 

He hates when he becomes this dark, brooding, silent, melodramatic asshole. He’s at a party. He’s supposed to be having fun. Some days he gets brought down by the most trivial things. It’s fucking stupid.

 

So he tries. He drinks and he pretends to laugh with the friends he’s known for barely two months. It helps a little.

 

“Yo, Lyon! How was that girl? She was fine,” Bryce asks as he approaches him.

 

Bryce Ware. His assigned roommate. Short statured, half black and half white, glasses, tried relatively hard to be cool and fit in. At first glance, you wouldn’t guess that the kid was an Ivy Leaguer. When he first moved into the King’s Court dorms, he certainly was skeptical. He figured that he had an in of some sort. A parent on the admissions team or something. But that wasn’t the case. His parents were middle class and lived in Raleigh, North Carolina. Bryce didn’t keep him waiting too long when it came to proving himself. A major in Computer Science, Bryce was the most tech savvy person he had ever met. He had a habit of bringing spare parts from computers and gadgets back to the room to build devices and enhance ones that already existed. Of course when he made that hobby known, other passions started to come into play as well. Bryce played it cool for almost a month before he gave in and geeked out over shit like Doctor Who and Star Trek. It was like he couldn’t keep up the front 24/7 anymore. Andre thought he would be annoyed by him after that but he strangely wasn’t. Bryce was a smart guy and, despite their differences, he liked him alright.

 

Best of all, Bryce thought he was great and rarely mentioned Lucious. He seemed to like him for him and made an effort, even though Andre was sort of cold at first.

 

“Dude, give me some details.”

 

Andre shrugs, “She was fine.”

 

“Yeah. That’s what I said. But how was she in the sack?”

 

“I already answered you.”

 

Bryce huffs out a quiet laugh, “You aren’t big on sharing are you?”

 

Andre just smirks and throws an arm around his roommate, “Nope! But I saw you hitting on Shawna over there. Have you gotten anywhere yet?”

 

Bryce looks over to give Shawna a predatory grin, which only receives a scowl in response, “I think she digs me. You know me, brother. I take my time and lure them in.”

 

Andre raises an eyebrow, “You know how creepy that sounds, don’t you?”

 

“What are you trying to imply?” Bryce asks, somewhat offended but brushes it off, “So what’s on the agenda tonight? There’s a party on 4th we can crash. I think it is a bunch of stuck up white collared dicks from Wharton.”

 

“So am I a stuck up white collared dick from Wharton,” Andre asks slowly, eyebrow raised.

 

“Nah, you’re still a freshman. The full effect hasn’t hit you yet.”

 

“Why would you even want to go if that’s your opinion of them?”

 

“I want to see how the other half lives! Come on, man. This is a senior party I am talking about. Aren’t you bored with this scene?”

 

Andre looked around their current scene and the sight didn’t thrill him, per say. He saw a couple more cute girls. Janelle from his Statistics class. Hallie, the girl who lived one floor below them. But it wasn’t as though he didn’t see them on a semi-regular basis. Whether it be in the dorms or in class or in these Freshmen bashes thrown by Kyle Winston, the 18 year old whose parents bought him a house near campus so that his studying and sleeping schedules wouldn’t be thrown off. 

 

Which meant Kyle was completely bullshitting his mom and dad. It was a Tuesday. Kyle had Intro to Corporate Finance with him on Wednesday mornings and, going by the way he is stumbling and slurring his words, he was going to miss it or be late for the third week in a row.

 

This rotation Andre has put himself in is getting too repetitive. He’s been here for two months and he’s already feeling bored with his routine.

 

“How are we gonna get in?” he finally asks Bryce.

 

Bryce just looks at him incredulously. His roommate doesn’t even have to open his mouth for Andre to hear him say, _‘Really? You are really asking me that? You?’_

 

“I may have less pull than you think, Bryce,” is all Andre says as he starts heading for the door.

 

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that,” his roommate mutters, following close behind. 

 

They walk to 4th Street instead of heading back to King’s Court to get his car. It isn’t that far and both of them have been drinking so he isn’t comfortable with driving. They hear some music coming from a penthouse and a few people outside smoking cigarettes so they’re 90% sure they have the right place. 

 

“So...go on,” Bryce says as he lightly pushes Andre ahead of him.

 

Andre lets out an aggravated sigh, goes up the stairs, and turns to look at the smoking trio.

 

“Party’s on the top floor, right?”

 

The three look at him, then at each other, only to look back at him.

 

“You don’t look like a senior.”

 

“I have a few friends I want to talk to about a business proposition.”

 

The guy in the group snorts, “Get out of here kid. Come back when you get 50 more credits under your belt.”

 

“Ever heard of Empire Records?”

 

“Yeah, the recording label. Lucious Lyon built it. Philadelphia royalty. What’s your point? Still doesn’t change the age on your ID.”

 

Andre smiles, pulls out his wallet, and flashes his ID out.

 

“Why don’t you check my ID, just to make sure of who I am?”

 

The man looks at him like he’s nuts, takes the ID from his hands, and says, “Dude, you don’t even turn 19 until Jan-...”

 

The man trails off and looks up at Andre’s face. He’s sure his expression is smug.

 

“Now my friend and I here would like to go upstairs. Is that a problem?”

 

“Nah. It’s not a problem. Good play.”

 

“I try. Bryce! Come on,” Andre calls out.

 

Brice runs over and waves at the girls as the whole group heads gets rung in. They pile into the elevator and Andre watches the lit up number get higher.

 

“My name’s Will, by the way,” the man says as he holds out his hand, “Will Gallagher.”

 

Andre looks down at the hand, looks back up, and says, “Well, you know mine.”

 

The bell dings and Andre steps out into the hall but lets Will go ahead of him to open up the door.

 

The penthouse takes up the whole floor and the furnishings show that rent didn’t take up all of the money for the month. Despite his father only coming into a great deal of money less than five years ago, Andre had places greater than this. As soon as his dad had a few hits at the top of the charts, Lucious Lyon had bought a mansion and was considering selling the place because six bedrooms and eight bathrooms weren’t enough for him anymore.

 

So this place didn’t impress him. Money hadn’t impressed him for a couple of years now. Don’t get him wrong. He wants money. He wants to be rich in his own right. But only because it impresses other people, including the people he wants respect from. He wants to make his cash legally and without anyone besides fellow job competitors getting hurt. It is harder to achieve that way but it is easier to live without the paranoia and fear of wires, traitors, cops, and prison. He wants to be respected for his money and his integrity. He wants to be respected like the people in this room are respected.

 

Not that he respected any of them. God, his ears fucking hurt from the goddamn yuppiness that filled this place made him want to roll his eyes. The young and dapper men talk about their family yachts and summer homes as they are seconds away from pulling their dicks out to see whose is bigger. It’s expected with this crowd. He looks over to Bryce and he can already tell the guy is barely keeping his head above water in a place like this. Smirking, Andre starts to walk away before he hears Bryce whisper out, “What are you doing?! Don’t start mingling and you dare throw me to the masses!”

 

Andre turns and raises an eyebrow, “But it was your idea. Have fun with the other side.”

 

Andre walks away from his roommate and goes through the crowd to do god knows what. Find a beautiful senior girl to hook up with. Eavesdrop on pretentious conversations. Watch Bryce flounder as a man comes up with him and starts discussing god knows what. 

 

He’d rather do option one but ends up doing option two instead. It’s the least appealing option but the conversation is so obnoxious that he can’t help it.

 

“-And Jackson and I are going to ski in the Swiss Alps this winter. We’re getting a premium cabin. It’s just so romantic, the places he takes me,” a twenty-something brunette sighed to her girlfriends over some cocktails.

 

“You are so lucky,” her red haired friend tells her, “Peter is only taking me to Dublin when he knows I used to go there all the time to see my grandparents so I don’t know why he didn’t think I would want to go somewhere better.”

 

“Sometimes we need to push our men in the right way, Mara. Where is Peter, anyway? He’s a senior in Wharton. He should be here,” the brunette asks as she consoles her friend.

 

“Working on a project. Or so he says. I just want him to show me that he cares,” Mara says with the fakest sniffle he’s ever heard.

 

“Are you kidding me?”

 

The question comes from a young blonde woman with an unimpressed look on her face. 

 

The brunette’s expression becomes condescending as she turns to the blonde.

 

“Rhonda, did you have something to say? Something that can help your potential big reach her goals with Peter? We encourage all of the pledges of Delta Pi to speak their thoughts.”

 

Rhonda huffs and downs her wine glass.

 

“Actually, I do,” Rhonda says, her words slightly loose, “Mara, you are a spoiled and ungrateful bitch. He’s taking you on a vacation, stop throwing a fit over where it’s going to be. Frankly, I’m surprised he’s even taking you. Peter’s a dick. But I guess that’s why he’s into you. Do you realize how much of a shitty person you are or do you think your complaints are actually legitimate?”

 

“How dare you!” Mara seethes as the brunette pulls her back.

 

“Rhonda, you need to go find Jonathan. And you may want to reconsider your pledge to Delta Pi. I don’t think you are quite what we’re looking for.”

 

“I will gladly rescind it. I’ve been looking for an excuse for at least a week.”

 

Andre holds back laughter as Rhonda walks off and he hears Mara speak up once more.

 

“What a horrible human being,” Mara says, “I didn’t expect that. She seemed nice enough at first.”

 

“I honestly don’t see what Jonathan sees in her or why he would want to be with a freshman in the first place.”

 

“So immature,” Mara laments as she shakes her head. 

 

The conversation moves back to the Swiss Alps and Andre doesn’t really feel a need to listen anymore. Will comes up to him and briefly talks to him about Empire. Andre gives him some general information since the guy did get them into his friend’s party before finding Bryce getting hit on by a tall and beautiful woman. His roommate looks at her, practically panting, and Andre decides to leave him to his own devices. 

 

The problem is that now he has to occupy his time. But with what? He could go talk business with someone but they won’t take him seriously until he brings up who his father is and even then, they will only take his father’s money seriously. Networking is integral to success. That’s what it said in the orientation handbook. You need help to make it to the top. But how was he supposed to network here? The party was getting louder and the people were getting drunker. He would have time to network with guest speakers in class seminars and next semester at his first internship. He wasn’t going to do it here, where he would have to yell to be heard.

 

So he gets in the same mood as everyone else, pours himself a glass of wine and drinks while he makes small talk with random people. Eventually he drinks enough so that he can be content standing alone until the alcohol hits his bladder and he has to ask where a bathroom is. 

 

There’s no line, thank god, so he fumbles with slightly drunken movements to unzip his pants and aims his stream for the toilet bowl. All in all, very uneventful. It’s when the shower curtain opens that he jumps.

 

“Fuck!”

 

“That was the longest piss I have ever heard in my life. Don’t you realize that holding your bladder can cause bacteria growth?”

 

He recognizes the girl instantly as the one who told off the spoiled Delta Pi brat outside. She’s close to getting white girl wasted, holding a bottle of wine in one hand and a bottle of vodka in another, and sitting in a bathtub. But it is her.

 

“Well I went, didn’t I? Is that why you’re hanging out in here? So you won’t have to wait when that vodka hits you?”

 

“Among other reasons,” she tells him as she watches the liquid in the bottle swish around.

 

She’s a bit odd. Maybe it’s because she’s drunk but just looking at her, he doesn’t expect her to be hanging out in a bathtub by herself while a party goes on just outside the door. Not that that’s a normal thing to expect out of someone anyway but it is something he would expect out of Bryce rather than her.

 

“Have fun, I guess,” he tells her has he dries off his hands.

 

“You are actually having fun out there?”

 

 _No._ That’s what he wants to say. But he’s supposed to be enjoying himself so he doesn’t.

 

“Sure,” He lies, “Weren’t you?”

 

Rhonda raises an eyebrow, “No. Not really. I’ve been coming to Michael’s shindigs for over a month. My boyfriend is his best friend. Some of the parties are thrown under the impression that you will talk about your goals and plans but people end up getting too drunk to remember the conversation the next morning.”

 

“I’m sure that some of them are serious about their future.”

 

“Oh, I’m sure that they are. But this party is for a small percentage of the senior class at Wharton and their SOs. This small percentage doesn’t need to to think too hard about their future because they were born into a great one set for them. Most of them are either working for their parents or with a family connection once they get out. They only care about people who come from even wealthier families to help them out even more, not partnering up to build something great themselves.”

 

Andre holds back a wince at the words. Little does she know, he could easily fit in with these folks. He wasn’t born into it by any means and, unlike his brothers, he’s the one that really remembers the drive-by shootings and drug money that affected his first home. But as soon as his father started becoming known and his mother went to prison, that all changed. After getting over the shock of the change, he became accustomed to it. And he knew that he would be set if no opportunities came up.

 

“So maybe you can avoid talking about business and work and just have fun.”

 

Rhonda snorts, “You think they’re fun?”

 

Andre shrugs, “Not really. But I’m sure some of them are nice.”

 

Rhonda gives him that and nods, “Some of them. And then there’s some who can’t see past their own noses.”

 

“I sort of got that impression, yeah.”

 

Rhonda gives him a once over, “You look young. How old are you?”

 

“Eighteen. And you?”

 

“Same. So you’re a freshman too? Wharton?”

 

Andre nods, “Yep. Multinational Management Major. You?”

 

“Marketing Manager. How’d you get in if you are a freshman? Are you dating an older woman? An older man?”

 

Andre huffs out a laugh, “No. I talked my way in because my roommate wanted to go somewhere besides Kyle Winston’s house. It was becoming the same thing over and over.”

 

Rhonda nods, “Well believe me, this becomes the same thing over and over too.”

 

“Is anybody in there?” A man calls out as he knocks, “I’m going to open the door. I have to go!”

 

Rhonda scoots over and pats the spot beside her in the bathtub. And god knows why but, after giving her a strange look, he sits down beside her. Rhonda closes the curtain right before the man comes in and puts a finger to her lips as they both hold their silence. 

 

“Shit! I’m about to piss myself,” they hear the guy say as he rushes in.

 

They hear him unzip his zipper and pee into the bowl and Andre can’t help but think how fucking weird it is that this is probably the most interesting part of his whole night.

 

After the man sighs with relief, flushes, washes his hands and leaves, Andre turns to Rhonda, who only turns to stare blankly at him in return. 

 

“Don’t you have a boyfriend that you should be getting back to?”

 

Rhonda shrugs, “He can come and find me. Want a sip?”

 

Andre looks down at the wine bottle and instead takes the Vodka bottle from the other hand. He takes a big gulp, tries not to shudder and gag at the taste, before handing it back to her.

 

“I’m Rhonda, by the way.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You know?”

 

“I heard you telling off that Delta Pi girl outside. She was pissed.”

 

Rhonda holds back a smirk, “Oh, Mara? Yeah, she needed to hear it. Probably not the best move for my college career but oh well.”

 

“You think you’ll survive without being sister of Delta Pi?”

 

Rhonda laughs, “I think I will persevere. There are other sororities if I feel the need to pledge again. Now what’s your name?”

 

“Andre,” he tells her.

 

“Andre...good name,” she comments before taking a swig from the wine bottle, “Thanks for sitting with me in this lovely tub, Andre.”

 

“Are you usually sitting in lovely tubs?”

 

“No,” she admits, “This is odd for me. Usually I’m a cold bitch. The alcohol loosens me up!”

 

He should take the alcohol away from her. He can’t see things getting better from this point forward. But she’s still talking and isn’t incoherent so who is he to ruin her good time?

 

“You should stay and drink with me,” she tells him, “Unless you want to go back out there.”

 

Andre looks down at the bottle and back up at her. She’s pretty, anyone can see that. But that doesn’t mean she’s his type. He’s always gone for darker skin, big brown eyes, and hourglass curves and, while Rhonda isn’t a complete stick and looks healthy and lean, she is the complete opposite of what he usually likes. Parties have always served a purpose for him: They were the perfect place to hook up with beautiful girls who match his type. And besides, she’s taken. So there really isn’t a reason for him to stay.

 

Despite his resolve, Andre finds himself taking the bottle of vodka from her hands and taking another gulp. Andre isn’t quite able to hold back the shudder this time and he feels Rhonda’s warm hand pat his back.

 

“There, there,” Rhonda says quietly.

 

The only thing he can think of over his sputters is that he should probably stay here anyway. There isn’t anything better to do tonight. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They get drunk. So fucking drunk. He hasn’t been this drunk since he was 15 and his father’s friends kept handing him shots because they wanted to be there when he got wasted for the very first time. And when he started stumbling around and feeling sick, his dad came up to him, laughed, and said, “Can’t hold your liquor, son? Get to the bathroom then take a bottle of water to bed. You were fun while you lasted.”

 

Andre wasn’t at the stage where he needed to throw up yet but it was comforting to see the toilet right there if he needed it. Not that he wanted to throw up in front of Rhonda. It would be pretty fucking embarrassing if that came to pass. 

 

Rhonda. Now she could hold her liquor. She is smaller than him but seemed less drunk than he was. And she was fun. She was smart and quick and hilarious. He hadn't met anyone like her before. He's never had many friends. A few buddies and a couple of study partners he got along with but he never had close and deep conversations with anyone. Maybe it was the liquor making his tongue loose but he felt comfortable talking to her and joking around. Lucious never came into the conversation. Neither of his parents did. Rhonda didn’t tell him about her family either. Stories from their childhoods were brought up but their parents were glossed over. Somehow they were able to tell each other about themselves without getting into their family dynamics. It was as though they were their own people. The were more than their families. Until this very moment, Andre never really saw that as possible. 

 

“Assuming you stay on the path you are on now and never change your major, what’s your ideal job?” he asks her as she finishes laughing over him telling her about how he kept a secret pet turtle in his closet for over a year when he was a kid. He loved that thing. Lucious had been so pissed when he found it. 

 

“Assuming I stay in the track I am in now? Hmmm...I’ve always been interested in advertising. I like the psych...psychology behind it. I would get to look at beautiful people all the time. It would be great. Maybe be head of the advertising department at a magazine or eventually be the head of an agency. I have a much better interview expla...explanation but I can’t think of anything else right now,” she slurs out with a goofy grin, “So you...you! Let me guess about you.”

 

Rhonda studies him before a light bulb turns on in her head, “ You want to work with finances. Money. Math. Things like that,”

 

“Sure, who doesn’t?” Andre tells her, agreeing.

 

“But what do you feel passionate about? What gives you the drive to make money?”

 

“I like deal...dealing with numbers. I always did. I like keeping things alive and I wanna...I don’t know. I want to make sure things run smoothly for other people. I want to make sure that something can be great with little to know prob...problem,” Andre says feeling himself drift a little. Shit, he has class tomorrow. He shouldn’t have drank this much.

 

“So like a CFO. I think you’ll be a great CFO,” she says soothingly, “I can tell you are really smart and driven. The only thing that might get in the way is your kindness.”

 

Andre stares at her and she stares right back. They don’t lean closer, but they don’t pull away. They just keep looking at each other. It should be uncomfortable but it isn’t. It’s intriguing and he feels like if they keep eye contact long enough then he will learn even more about her.

 

They had been careful up until this point. They kept the curtain part way open so they could see whether or not someone was starting to open the bathroom door before quickly shutting it and holding their breath. It’s childish and strange and Andre doesn’t think it’s normal behavior from her but he finds himself engaging in it to spend more time with her and just talk.

 

So the stare between them does make them slip up when someone walks right in. 

 

“Dude,” he hears Bryce’s voice say, “What are you doing?”

 

Andre forces himself to pull away from his stare and look at Bryce, who looks slightly flushed and disheveled.

 

“Hey!” Andre says to him with a big grin, “We’re just sitting here. You know how it is.”

 

“Yeah, you’re drunk. I’ve been looking for you and thought you bailed. It’s one in the morning and we both have a class tomorrow. You ready to go?”

 

“No, I’m gonna...I’m gonna sit here and talk to Rhonda.” 

 

“Rhonda? Hey, I think someone is looking for you,” Bryce says as he turns to her.

 

“Is he tall with brown hair and a pretentious aura around him?” she asks as she gets up.

 

“I think it’s the same guy. Said he was looking for his girlfriend,” Bryce says pointedly to Andre. Andre just stares blankly in response. 

 

Rhonda stumbles as she steps out of the tub and Andre jumps up in preparation to help her but she catches herself and brushes herself off.

 

“It was nice talking to you, Andre,” she tells him as she walks out of the room. He doesn’t even get to say, “You too” back to her.

 

Andre sways on his feet and Bryce puts a hand on him to lead him out of the tub.

 

“Come on, buddy,” he tells him leading him out of the tub, “Let’s go back to the dorm.”

 

Andre groans as the full effect of the alcohol hits him. Bryce puts an arm around his waist to hold him steady as he walks him out of the bathroom. They manage not to be noticed and make it to the door that leads to the elevator. Andre stops to take one last look around and doesn’t see Rhonda anywhere. He feels Bryce pull on him and lets himself be led away.

 

When they get outside, he starts to stagger to the side before Bryce pulls him upright again. 

 

“Man, this is definitely a switch around. Usually it’s you dragging me back home,” Bryce says lightly. 

 

“I drank too much,” Andre groans as he lets his head hang.

 

“Yeah, I can tell. At least you got to hook up with a pretty girl. I didn’t know you were into white girls. It’s good that you are broadening your horizons. Gives you more options in the long run. But fuck man, two girls in one night? For a guy who keeps to himself, you sure do have game-”

 

“Rhonda and I didn’t hook up. We were just talking. She’s great,” Andre says, head nodding.

 

“Just talked? You just talked to her?” Bryce asks, confused. 

 

“Yeah. We talked about a lot. I like her.”

 

“You have a crush or something?”

 

Andre stops and thinks before shaking his head, “I just met her and she’s with someone else. Not my type anyway. She would be a good friend. It doesn’t matter.”

 

Bryce looks at him, “Alright, man. Whatever you say.”

 

They manage to get back to the dorm uneventfully. Andre rushes to the bathroom to puke before taking a glass of water Bryce hands him. He brushes his teeth, sets his alarm, and sleeps on his side for caution. He dreams of blonde hair, blue eyes, and pretty smiles. It’s a change he doesn’t expect but it’s a nice change from the recurring one he has of his mother in tears as she is led away to the courtroom.

 

And when he wakes up, all he can still think of is blonde hair, blue eyes, and pretty smiles. A girl that usually wouldn’t catch his attention but did so anyway.

 

He meant what he said to Bryce. It doesn’t matter. He didn’t get her number and she has a boyfriend. The campus is big enough to the point where he might not even see her again.

 

The conversation was nice while it lasted. 

 

So he gets up to get ready for his first class. As he walks out the door, he ignores the pounding headache and the small weight in his chest and gets on with his day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andre goes home to visit his brothers and father.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, an update has finally arrived! Hope you all enjoy it! :)

Andre decides to go home for the weekend. He’s only seen his brothers once since he left for school when Uncle Vernon brought them up for dinner. Andre hasn’t been home once himself and, while he doesn’t particularly miss the house, he misses his brothers. He worries about them and wonders if they are getting enough attention. He isn’t that worried about Hakeem. Hakeem has a nanny and Lucious has always favored his youngest son. Hakeem is seven years old, cute as hell, and outgoing. He has no problem getting people’s attention.

 

It is Jamal he is worried about.

 

Jamal had always been a bit different. He is a sweet kid. Ridiculously talented. But quiet like he is hiding something, especially since their mother went to prison. The way his father treated Jamal has always rubbed Andre the wrong way. Cruelly taunting the kid and dismissing what he said. Jamal has always worked so hard to gain the man’s acceptance but he seemed so alone the last time he saw him. Andre doubts Jamal has gained any progress with their father. He knows that The kid never fit in with the other boys his age and part of Andre is concerned that whatever it is that keeps Jamal different would further isolate him. 

 

Andre understands isolation. He has never been really outgoing and, while he had friends growing up, he never opened up to any of them. He never minded. He could find the words to sell a vision or a project and he could sweet talk a girl like it was nobody’s business but to open up to someone and tell them about his mother, his father, his burdens, his life? He has never been able to do that with anyone. He doesn't want that for Jamal. Jamal is a different person than he is. He is nicer, generally more open, and needs the comfort. There had been times when he would let Jamal cry into his shoulder after their father cruelly lashed out. He would try to get him to open up despite his own problems with talking things out. There had been a few times when Jamal became completely distraught and Andre felt the need to go to their father and demand he go easier on the kid. Every time he tried, it just came out just as a question. Instead of demanding, he would ask, “Can’t you go easier on him?” or “Jamal’s really upset. Maybe you can talk to him or spend a little time with him.”

 

You can imagine the responses his father gave him.

 

Jamal is braver than he is. He has never been afraid to call their father out, even at a young age. So to know that his brother has become withdrawn and doesn’t seem happy is reason enough to go back home for the weekend and see what’s going on.

 

Andre types in the code for the gate and buzzed himself in before driving up to the house. He parks the car and gets out his keys to open the door. The place is empty but it’s also early. His only free weekday is Friday so he decided to come over in the morning rather than wait. It’s late enough for the boys to be at school and for his father to be in the city but early enough to see that their maid isn't on duty yet. So he just makes himself some toast and eggs before plopping himself in front of the television. There’s not much on. When he turns on the television he sees that Hakeem was watching Cartoon Network before he went to school. He turns the channel a couple of times to see Maury, some Gilligan’s Island rerun, and Best Week Ever on VH1. He turns it to MTV and sees one of his dad’s music videos. Like he said, there’s not much on. 

 

He ends up putting CNN on and tunes in and out while the channel cycles through debates, announcements, and interviews. He talks to Marie when she comes in and helps with the dishes because there isn’t anything else better to do and he starts to wonder what the point is of having a large extravagant house when there’s nothing to do in it. 

 

“How’s school, Andre?” Marie asks him as they make sure everything is put away in the right place.

 

Andre shrugs, “It’s good. I have some homework this weekend. I figured I would work on it tomorrow morning.”

 

“Yes, take a day. Make sure you take some time to have fun and enjoy college and life. You’re always so busy.”

 

“I make sure I have fun,” Andre insists, shaking his head at Marie’s concern.

 

“But don’t get too crazy! I don’t want your daddy getting any calls about his son overdosing or getting alcohol poisoning like you hear about other kids on the news.”

 

Andre rolls his eyes, “Wouldn’t want to embarrass him.”

 

Marie doesn’t seem to know what to say to that and just keeps working until she finally says, “He loves you. Maybe not like he should but he does. He just has a hard time showing it. It’s how men in West Philadelphia are raised. That whole ‘Don’t get too close because there’s a good chance you might lose them’ mentality. Lose them to jail, to a bullet to the heart, to a drug. You’re better than that. He should know that all you boys are. Maybe one day he will realize that you all aren’t in West Philly anymore.”

 

Marie shoos him out of the room after a while and he’s bored again. He’s never been the type to sit still and do nothing. He doesn’t have a talent to improve or any hobbies. He used to collect coins but it had been before Hakeem came along and his father sold them to help pay for the gas bill. 

 

Despite telling Marie that he was going to wait until tomorrow, he starts on his mock business model, finishes it, then works on his English paper on The Awakening, which he read in high school for an assignment a year after reading it on his own. Apparently Penn still sees the book as relevant and relatable and maybe it was for some but it wasn’t for him. He thinks if this were the first time he had read it, he wouldn’t be so bitter about it. He actually didn’t mind the book the first time around but grew to dislike it. Not for the feminism or Edna’s desire to live a non-conventional life but because, even though it was more complicated than Edna drowning herself because she believes that her sons are better off without her, it is bullshit that she does because the dad is barely ever around so who the fuck else is going to take care of them? 

 

Andre growls and slams the book closed. Considering this is an unrelatable story about a white woman from Louisiana in the late 1800s, it pisses him off in the strangest ways. He’ll finish it later.

 

Since he didn’t go to bed until 3 am and woke up at 7, he takes a nap for an hour and is woken up by small body landing on top of him. He feels his sides get tickled and hears laughter as he groans and tries to put his head under the pillow. 

 

“Dre!” Hakeem giggles excitedly, “It’s the afternoon! Why are you asleep?”

 

“Because I’m tired,” he answers, muffled by the pillow.

 

“Marie told me you were here so I ran up here to find you! I thought you would NEVER come home!”

 

Andre sighs, sits up in bed, and hugs the kid, planting a kiss on his forehead.

 

“Gross, _stop_ ,” Hakeem insists rubbing his forehead, before punching him in the arm. Not even seven years old and he’s already a little punk.

 

“I missed you,” he says softly, looking down at the floor.

 

“I missed you too,” Andre can’t help but smile, “How’s Dad?”

 

Hakeem shrugs, swinging his feet, “He gets home late most of the time. He comes in to say goodnight sometimes though. But he’s real busy.”

 

“Is he still having parties at the house?”

 

“Yeah, every week. He makes me go to bed a lot of the time.”

 

Andre purses his lips, “Good. You don’t need to be around that.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Andre leans in, “Because they’re adults. They’re _old_. And boring. You really think they know how to have a good time?”

 

Hakeem giggles a little, “Nah. Dad can be fun but not all his friends are.”

 

“Unless they are paying attention to you.”

 

“And my skills!”

 

Which of course gets Hakeem into rap mode and Andre has to stop himself from rolling his eyes as the little boy raps about the playground or whatever trials he goes through in his day to day life. But he listens, patting the boy on the back as soon as he wraps it up, and starts to lead him out of his room.

 

“Where’s Jamal?”

 

“In his room,” Hakeem sighs, over the top and exasperated, “Being all quiet and no fun.”

 

“Oh, yeah? Is he being a mopey teenager?”

 

“Uh huh! He is SO quiet that he and Dad don’t even fight anymore!” Hakeem exclaims, “Dad just yells at him and Jamal just makes mean faces.”

 

Despite his concern, Andre snorts at that before ushering Hakeem to the stairs.

 

“Go downstairs. I want to talk to Jamal,” Andre tells him.

 

“You like him better than me,” Hakeem pouts as he crosses his arms.

 

“No, I just need to talk to him. We can play video games or I can take you to the park later, alright?”

 

“Whatever,” Hakeem mutters, shuffling his feet as he heads down the stairs.

 

Andre goes down the hallway and knocks on Jamal’s door. No answer. He listens from the other side and hears him on his keyboard, probably way too sucked into what he is writing. Testing the doorknob, he sees that it’s unlocked and steps inside, staying silent as Jamal hums along with his piano. It takes the kid a few seconds to realize someone is there but he eventually stops and looks at him with blank eyes.

 

“Oh. Hey, Dre.”

 

“No, ‘Hey, bro! It’s been ages! I’ve missed you so much!’ or ‘Things just haven’t been the same without you!” Or the classic, ‘Get out of my room. I’m working.’”

 

Jamal gives him a small smile that doesn’t reach his eyes but doesn’t say anything. It’s disconcerting, seeing that dull and lifeless look from his little brother. So he sits down on the bench next to him.

 

“Dad got you a new keyboard?” Andre comments, studying the upgrade.

 

“Yeah. He gave it to me about a month ago, right after we saw you last.”

 

“That was nice of him.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Andre waits for Jamal to continue but he gets nothing so he tries to be affectionate and puts his arm around him.

 

“I’ve missed you, man,” he says, squeezing his shoulder a little, “How’s high school?”

 

Jamal shrugs, “It’s alright.”

 

“You enjoying choir and the band?”

 

Jamal nods, “Yeah. I got a part in the new musical too. David in Newsies. We’re performing at the end of the semester.”

 

“That’s great, man. It’ll help you meet other students and you’ll get to show off your talent.”

 

“Dad doesn’t think it’s great. He thinks musicals are for white people and faggots.”

 

Andre winces at the offensive word, “Well, they’re not. I don’t really watch them but I think that was pretty messed up of him to say when he’s a musician. And besides, they casted you, didn’t they? You’re black and they thought you were so good that they casted you instead of a white kid.”

 

Jamal shrugs, accepting the words. Andre is glad that his little brother leaves it at that. He doesn’t want one of them put on the spot over the gay topic. He knows that his dad says shit about Jamal, derogatory things. Jamal’s never said anything to any of them but he’s also never denied any insinuation or had a crush on a girl, as far as Andre knows at least. So he has a feeling that their father, as hateful as he words it, might have actual suspicions about Jamal's sexuality. But if Jamal is gay, Andre won’t push it and will just wait until Jamal brings it up on his own.

 

“You’re okay, right?” Andre has to ask, “You haven’t called me since before I came to visit last month.”

 

“You haven’t called me either,” Jamal insists, pressing a key on the keyboard.

 

Okay. That’s also true.

 

“Sorry,” is all he can say, “I will if you want me to.”

 

“If you want to,” Jamal shrugs.

 

Andre lets out a sigh at his brother’s demeanor and stands up, “Alright. You’re too quiet. Come downstairs and do something with me and Hakeem.”

 

“No. Get out of my room. I’m working,” Jamal says, turning back to his music.

 

“Now.”

 

Jamal lets out a breath and gets up with a huff, following Andre downstairs to the living room where Hakeem is playing Grand Theft Auto.

 

“Turn off that trash,” he tells him, pressing the off button to the game consol.

 

“Andre!” Hakeem yells, standing up to stomp his feet and push him, “Why’d you do that?!”

 

“Because you’re a six year old and it’s inappropriate,” he snaps.

 

“I turn seven on December 1st!” Hakeem shoots back, angry tears filling his eyes, before running over to beat up a pillow on the couch.

 

“Yes, and obviously that makes you so mature,” Jamal snickers, sitting down next to the boy.

 

“Shut up, Jamal!” Hakeem screams, sitting up to display his wet face.

 

Andre rolls his eyes at the behavior, “Go get your shoes on. No video games. We’ll play basketball at the park. You like basketball. It’s healthier than shooting people, running them over, and banging hookers. Go.”

 

Hakeem gives him one last glare before running to the foyer to put on his tennis shoes. 

 

“He’s a nightmare half the time,” Jamal says, “He behaves and is super sweet when Dad’s around. He’s good as long as he’s getting his way too. But he’s been such a bitch lately.”

 

“Jamal,” Andre says pointedly.

 

“What? It’s true. One of his nannies quit on him already. It’s dad’s fault. He spoils him but that’s just because he’s not around a lot. It fucks up Hakeem’s behavior.”

 

“He’s usually good around me.”

 

“Yeah, but you aren’t around anymore so he’s pissed about it.”

 

Andre runs a hand down his face, “What do you want me to say, Jamal?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“I’m in college. I’m supposed to start branching out in order to have my own life.”

 

“So that means cutting us out of it?”

 

“No! Why would you think that? Jesus.”

 

Andre sighs, pacing and wondering what he did to make his brother act so coldly towards him all of the sudden.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Andre turns, not expecting the apology.

 

“I’ve just...I’ve missed you, that’s all,” Jamal goes on, “Things have been harder without you here. I can see why you’d want to get away though.”

 

Andre nods silently, not knowing what else to say. He had wanted to get away from his dad. From his cold, cruel comments, from the whiplash he got on the odd moments he decided to be affectionate and supportive. From the countless women the man brought to his bed to the ones he pushed onto his oldest son just for kicks. Not that Andre should complain. They were beautiful and he had gotten off with them, fell a little for a couple of them, but the fact that they were a gift from his father left a bad taste in his mouth. It was almost like he wanted his son to become a manwhore, as if Andre couldn’t follow in the genius’s footsteps in any other way. He had wanted to get away from the house. Despite the fact that living in it came with a maid, a driver, a personal theater, and just a general pleasing aesthetic quality, it was cold and empty and hollow. 

 

But he hadn’t wanted to leave Jamal and Hakeem. He just wanted to...grow up.

 

“I’m ready. But we better be going soon because Dad will be back for dinner!” Hakeem insists.

 

“Don’t hold your breath,” Jamal mutters as he gets up to go out the door. 

 

“He will,” Hakeem argues, “He told me he would.”

 

Andre leads the boys to his car and makes sure Hakeem buckles up before driving off. He goes to the large playground on Henderson. Middle class neighborhood, racially diverse, safe. Nothing like the one he went to as a kid and less isolating than the yuppity playground on 2nd Street.

 

The court’s empty so they play a casual game of basketball once they get there. There’s no rules. They pit themselves against each other but take it easy on Hakeem since he’s so small. Andre and Jamal get the kid to his happy, hyperactive self again. Hakeem and Andre get Jamal to actually laugh, which helps lower his concern about his younger brother a little. They have fun. They bond. Something he hasn’t done with his brothers for a month but something he hopes Jamal and Hakeem have done without him.

 

“You snooze, you lose!” Hakeem cracks as he steals the ball from him, dribbling it over to try to make a basket but misses by a few inches.

 

“You made him mad,” Jamal conspires, picking Hakeem up, who has the ball once again, to put him on his shoulders, “Get the ball in before he gets it from you!”

 

Jamal runs over to the hoop and gets Hakeem close enough to score. Andre does try to block Hakeem’s shot, sort of, but the kid has skills and gets it in one go, cheering his win from his older brother’s shoulders.

 

“You lose, Andre!” Hakeem laughs, pointing at him, “I showed you!”

 

The kid acts like he’s on speed once he’s let down, running around the park like he owns it and talking with any kid he sees in sight. He didn’t get that trusting demeanor from Lucious Lyon, that’s for sure.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite Hakeem’s claim that their dad had told him he would be home for dinner, he isn’t. He isn’t home by dessert. He doesn’t get home while they are watching The Lion King to laugh at his youngest son vehemently insisting that he isn’t crying or to call Jamal a pussy for not even hiding it. He’s not home to carry an exhausted Hakeem upstairs. That and getting the kid ready for bed come down to Andre. The man isn’t there to tuck him in. But that last one is okay. Hakeem says he’s too old for that now anyway. Andre can’t help but wonder if their dad felt the twinge in his chest when he found that out like Andre just felt. He wonders if their dad even knows.

 

It’s not until past midnight when he comes in, with a few women on his arm and Uncle Vernon and Bunkie trailing in behind him. And, if this is like any other Friday night, there are probably more people to come. 

 

Lucious pauses when he sees Andre and smiles.

 

“Well, look who we got here. My eldest has decided to grace us with his presence,” Lucious drawls, not taking a step further.

 

Andre puts on a smile and stands up, walking over towards the man, “Hey, Pop.” 

 

Andre opens his arms for a hug only to get held away and studied.

 

“College boy. Wharton. You still enjoying that life?”

 

“Yeah, I am. I have some great professors and I’ve made a few new friends. But I’m excited to get the required core classes out of the way so I can really focus on my major and take classes where my interests lie-”

 

“Are you into nerds, Kayla?” his father laughs, turning to the woman on his left.

 

“If they’re cute like your son,” Kayla says, giving Andre a once over.

 

“Good. Show Andre a good time. It seems like the girls at Penn haven’t been able to get him to loosen up yet.”

 

With that, his father turns back to his small party and yells for Marie to get the door when the buzzer rings.

 

“It’s good to see you, Andre,” Uncle Vernon tells him, patting him on the shoulder.

 

Andre tries to smile yet doesn’t quite manage before Kayla runs a finger over his shirt collar and says, “Come on, baby. Show me your room.”

 

“No, thanks.”

 

It may be rude but he can’t strum up the heart to care as he stalks off, holding his tongue when his dad calls after him and says, “Oh, don’t be such a bitch and take her up to your room! I swear, that boy can’t appreciate a nice offer when he sees it. Come here, Kayla…”

 

Andre stalks off and finally lets himself breathe when he gets to his room. Maybe his father will be up for an actual conversation in the morning.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He ends up not sleeping that well, especially after Hakeem woke him up after the party downstairs got too loud, asking if he could sleep in his bed with him. The kid’s a clinger but Andre supposes he should feel honored. Jamal is usually the one who complains about Hakeem jumping into his bed too much.

 

Still tired, he manages to untangle himself from Hakeem to go downstairs. It’s still early, a little after 7 am. He glances into the living room and finds that no one passed out in there so he gets a bowl of cereal and eats it as he watches the news. He sits there for a while and he drifts off at some point, dreams of his mom cooking breakfast at their old house. She’s smiling, happy, laughing that loud, genuine laugh she had when she was truly having a great morning. It was always nice to wake up and come down to that. 

 

Waking up to Bunkie walking by in his wife beater and boxers isn’t.

 

“You’ll call me?” the girl asks, looking at Bunkie with fake flirtation, probably seeking out a shot at fame by sleeping with an associate of Lucious Lyon.

 

“Of course, baby,” Bunkie winks before giving her a kiss, “I have a car waiting for you out front. You tell him wherever you need to be.”

 

He leaves the living room to see her out and Andre lets out a breath before throwing the blanket off of him. Bunkie comes back as Andre’s collecting his bowl and spoon and gives him a look.

 

“You went off to your room last night, didn’t you?” he asks, scratching his head, “Why you down here?”

 

“Hakeem took over my bed. Got a little freaked with the noise. He clings so I came down here a couple of hours ago,” Andre tells him as they walk to the kitchen, “Who all stayed the night?”

 

“A lot more people were in and out after you went to bed but most of them left by 5. Your daddy took two of the girls upstairs. You know how he is. But other than that, it was just me and Rachel in one of the guest rooms. Vernon told me to tell you to call him though. Said he wanted to take you out for lunch if you had the time.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll call him.”

 

“You know, he’s really proud of you. Glad you went off to school. And hey, I am too! I’m glad to see you making your own way. You’ve always been so smart.”

 

“...Thank you, Bunkie. I appreciate it. I’ve been having a good time.”

 

“That’s what I want to hear. You seeing anyone?”

 

“Nah. I’m not really looking for anything like that right now.”

 

“Keeping your options open, I like it. I’m sure there are some sexy college girls you have hooked up with though.”

 

“A few,” Andre smirks.

 

“Good for you, kid. Good for you. You may have a different approach but your daddy can’t say you can’t reel the ladies in yourself.”

 

After Bunkie gives him a hug and lets him know he’s going to head home, Andre feels a little bit more at ease. He loves Bunkie. The man has always been there for his family and is his mother’s cousin. But he doesn’t connect to him like he does with Uncle Vernon, and even that relationship felt too professional at times. Bunkie has always been a favorite of Hakeem’s though so he was appreciative for that.

 

The morning passes by slowly but he’s grateful when his father gets up before his two younger sons, ushering his fucks of the night out the door and assuring them studio time later on in the week. He stops in front of the living room and sees Andre, stares at him for a few seconds, and sits down on the couch to join him.

 

“Haven’t seen you in awhile, son,” he says as he stares at the television, “How’ve you been?”

 

“Fine,” is all Andre says to him. Lucious already made it clear he wasn’t all that interested so why try to dive into it again?

 

“ _Fine_ ," his father mocks before flicking his ear.

 

“Ow!”

 

“Tell me about your classes.”

 

Andre scoffs, “You didn’t want to hear about them last night.”

 

“Can’t a man change his damn mind?” Lucious retorts sarcastically.

 

“They’re good. I don’t like my English class but that’s mainly because we’re covering something I already studied in high school. Other than that, I love them.”

 

“You love them, huh? You’re taking finance and business classes?”

 

“Two, Intro to Corporate Finance and Intro to Operations Management. I wish I could take more but I want to get the required courses out of the way early. The other three classes I’m taking are Trig, French, and Chemistry.”

 

“French? How’s that?”

 

“It’s challenging but I tested well so they put me in the advance level course. All we do is speak and write in French. No English after we walk through the door.”

 

Lucious gives him an incredulous look, “Boy, I never taught you French!”

 

“I took four years of it in high school and also took classes in the 7th and 8th grade. I made straight A’s in French, remember?”

 

“You made straight A’s in everything,” Lucious mutters under his breath as he stands up, “You have plans today?”

 

“Bunkie told me to call Uncle Vernon because he wanted to take me out to lunch but other than that, no.”

 

“No get togethers with your old high school buddies? Maybe you can hook up with that cute girl you dated for a few months. What was her name?”

 

“Alicia?”

 

“Yeah. Her.”

 

“Nah, I haven’t talked to her for a while. We didn’t really click that well.”

 

Lucious nods, “Well, try to not be a complete bore.”

 

His dad starts to walk away after that quip but Andre speaks up, on a whim that it’s possible his father started a conversation with him for a reason.

 

“Dad? Maybe you, me, Hakeem, and Jamal could go to dinner and a movie?”

 

“I don’t know, Dre. I need to work on my music. I’ve been producing for other artists so much that I haven’t-”

 

“Dad, it’s just one evening. Besides, Hakeem really missed you last night. I think he would get really excited if we all went out.”

 

His father pauses for a second, thinking about his answer, before coming to a conclusion.

 

“I don’t know if I have time for both but maybe dinner. No promises, but I’ll try, alright?”

 

“Thanks, Dad.”

 

“Yeah, whatever.”

 

“Where do you want to eat?” Andre asks because doesn’t particularly care. He’s come to realize that his dad is more likely to do things if everything goes his way.

 

His father takes his time to ponder before declaring, “Bistrot La Minette. French cuisine for my French wannabe son.” 

 

Andre huffs out a laugh, “I doubt Hakeem will go for it. It might be better to go for a diner or something-”

 

“Hakeem needs to learn to eat what’s put in front of him,” his father tells him as he starts to head towards the coat rack, “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading to Empire.”

 

“Pop, it’s Saturday,” Andre points out, “Why don’t you take just one weekend to relax or at least work here so that-”

 

“So Hakeem can jump around my studio begging me to play with him? So that Jamal can stay in his room and give me the silent treatment all damn day? I don’t think so.”

 

After his father zips up his jacket, he gives Andre one last look.

 

“Why don’t you go have some fun? Go hang out with a friend or mess around with a girl in the movie theater or do some fucking math problems in your room, whatever it is that you do.”

 

Andre looks down and nods, “Alright.”

 

His father stares at him before letting out a sigh that almost sounds guilty, “I’ll meet you at the restaurant, alright? Let’s aim for 7:30. You know where it is?”

 

Andre nods, feeling a little lighter, “Yeah. I’ll drive the boys down and we’ll be there.”

 

“Sounds good. Later, son.”

 

Lucious heads out on that note, leaving Andre alone.

 

Well, not _alone_. Marie comes in and says hello to him before tending to laundry and Hakeem makes his presence known by sliding down the banister. 

 

“How are you so energetic when you just woke up?” Andre asks him as he watches the little boy jump towards the kitchen.

 

“Because I’m hungry! Make me some breakfast, ‘Dre!” Hakeem calls out, always demanding.

 

Andre rolls his eyes and gets up to walk into the kitchen, taking his own used cereal bowl in tow to put it in the dishwasher. Hakeem sits there, silent and waiting with wide eyes as he perches on the barstool by the island counter.

 

“Lucky Charms okay?” Andre asks as he opens the cabinet.

 

“I don’t want cereal,” Hakeem informs him, “I want bacon and eggs.”

 

Andre suppresses a groan, “Hakeem, that takes work and I already ate.”

 

“But that’s what I want!” the little boy complains, “I want them so bad that I had dreams about them!”

 

Andre raises an eyebrow, amused, “You had a dream about bacon and eggs.”

 

Hakeem nods his head seriously, “Uh huh. And now I want them real bad.”

 

Andre shakes his head but gives in, “Fine. Go tell Jamal to get his butt out of bed so that he can have some too.”

 

“I can’t go wake him up. Jamal isn’t here.”

 

Andre snorts, initially thinking it’s Hakeem’s way of keeping all the bacon and eggs to himself before he realizes his youngest brother isn’t joking.

 

“What are you talking about, Jamal’s not here?”

 

Hakeem shrugs, “He goes and sees Cookie on Saturdays.”

 

Andre waits for him to elaborate but the kid says nothing else.

 

“Yeah, but Dad was here. He usually takes him and waits in the parking lot,” Andre says slowly.

 

“He’s not doing that now.”

 

Andre can’t help but glare, “Since when?”

 

“Since forever.”

 

“Not since forever. He has taken him on Saturdays for over five years.”

 

Hakeem shakes his head, “Jamal yelled at him one day and Dad yelled back and said, ‘You can find your damn way!’ and I was up on the stairs the whole time so I heard. I don’t know what they was fighting about but they got really mad and Jamal went on his own.”

 

Andre feels a little stressed as he asks, “What time does he leave?”

 

Hakeem shrugs, “I don’t know. I’m never up! Are you ever gonna make me bacon and eggs?”

 

Andre sighs and tries not to grill the kid any longer by getting the eggs and bacon out of the fridge as Hakeem pumps his fist with victory. He puts the plate down in front of the boy and watches him scarf the food down and drink his orange juice so quickly that Andre would be concerned he wasn’t getting fed if he didn’t know any better. Hakeem finishes off his meal with a last gulp and a satisfied, “Ahhhhh” before taking the focus off his food and putting it on Andre. 

 

“What are we going to do now?” Hakeem asks as he hops down off the stool, “I think you should take me to the arcade and-”

 

“Get dressed,” Andre interrupts as he gathers the dirty dishes.

 

Hakeem gasps, “You’re gonna take me?!”

 

Andre shakes his head, “Not this weekend. We’re going to go pick up Jamal. Now hurry up.”

 

Hakeem stomps his foot, “But that’s so far and we’ll have to wait on him forever!”

 

Andre gives him the look, one that isn’t as effective as his mother’s used to be but it sends the message across and causes Hakeem to huff and puff all the way up to his room to get changed. Andre can’t blame the kid there. He’s feeling pretty angry himself, although it’s for a different reason than Hakeem’s. That asshole. The fucking son of a bitch…

 

Andre takes a deep breath and clears the thoughts he would never actually say to the man’s face out of his head. There wouldn’t be much of a point bringing them up anyway. It would just piss them both off.

 

Hakeem comes down in a pair of Adidas athletic pants, a purple t-shirt that says ‘King’ on it, and a cap supporting the Philadelphia eagles. But the most flashy part of the kid’s outfit has to be his light up Nike sneakers. But Hakeem looks proud of his accomplishment of picking his outfit out on his own so Andre gives him a once over and tells him he looks cool.

 

“Cooler than you look!” Hakeem beams triumphantly before zipping up his coat and picking up his backpack.

 

It takes about an hour to drive to the prison on a good day but Saturday is never a good day to drive on the freeway. They get stuck in traffic and Hakeem complains about how bored he is all while Andre keeps himself from yelling at Hakeem to shut up. He may turn the radio up a little louder than necessary but he has never claimed that he is the most patient person in the world.

 

They get there by noon and Andre feels frozen as he stares up at the huge building. Jamal had once wisely pointed out that if would actually go in and talk to their mom then maybe he wouldn’t freak out every time he was close to this place. Jamal could be right but Andre couldn’t bring himself to test the theory. Jamal had been upstairs when it all happened. He had been too young to really understand anyway. Andre remembered everything. The drugs being sorted out on the table, the guns. It had been confusing and sometimes terrifying for him. He remembers asking his mom why they had to deal that stuff and she seemed surprised and ashamed that he knew what they were really doing. But all she said was, “Sometimes we have to do dishonest things before we become an honest success.”

 

Andre hadn’t understood until his father’s first single blew up the charts. 

 

But, as he looks up at this huge and intimidating place, he doesn’t see what she got out of it. 

 

He takes Hakeem’s hand, seemingly for the little boy’s benefit but probably for his own as well, and goes into the lobby to talk to the Correctional Officer at the window. 

 

“Name?” she asks, barely even glancing up.

 

“Andre Lyon,” he tells her, his voice sounding a little strangled.

 

The Correctional Officer takes a closer look at him, “I suppose you are here to see Cookie Lyon?”

 

Andre shakes his head, “No. I have my little brother with me. He’s under 13 and our dad isn’t here to give his consent. I was just wondering if Jamal Lyon has checked out yet?”

 

The C.O. flips a few papers and glances at the list, “Still in there.”

 

Andre nods, a little relieved, “Would you tell him that his brothers are out in the parking lot when he gets out? I didn’t know he was going to take the bus up. I would have given him a ride if I’d known.”

 

“If I’m here when he’s checked out then I will be sure to tell him. You are welcome to wait in the lobby though.”

 

Andre hesitates before shaking his head, “I think Hakeem will be less impatient in the car. He brought a coloring book and he can listen to the radio. Thanks though.”

 

The woman makes a sound of acknowledgement then just says, “Whatever.”

 

Andre takes Hakeem’s hand again and leads him back to the car. 

 

“Can I sit up front?” Hakeem begs, “Please please ple-”

 

“Fine. But only while we’re waiting for Jamal. I’m not driving with you up front on the freeway.”

 

Hakeem chants, “Yes!” under his breath, as if sitting up front in a parked car is a huge victory before climbing in when Andre opens the door for him. 

 

They wait for over an hour while Hakeem restlessly fidgets in his seat. Playing with the radio to find a good station and playing with his GameBoy seem to help chill him out a little. Right when Andre gets to the point where even he wants to get up and do _something_ , Jamal startles them by knocking on the window and waving hello.

 

“It’s Jamal!” Hakeem exclaims, stating the obvious.

 

“Yeah, and you know what that means. Get in the back.”

 

Hakeem grumbles out his frustration as he opens the door and glares at Jamal.

 

“You ruin everything,” Hakeem mumbles before he gets in the back seat.

 

Jamal snorts at the drama queen before sitting up front.

 

“You know, you could have woke me up,” Andre tells him as he pulls out of the parking lot, “How many buses did you have to take to get here? Two?”

 

“Three,” Jamal corrects, “It takes three hours to get here and I wanted to get here by 10 so I left at 6:30.”

 

“Shit, Jamal. Next time just ask. Why isn’t Dad taking you?”

 

Jamal shrugs, “We got into a fight.”

 

“About what?” Andre presses.

 

“Stuff.”

 

Andre rolls his eyes, “What _stuff_?”

 

“About Mom getting to see me sometimes only a couple times a month yet she knows more about me than he ever will.”

 

Andre is silent for a beat before clearing his throat, “A bit harsh, don’t you think?”

 

“No. It was just honest.”

 

“Look, Dad raised us, especially you and Hakeem. You were, what? Seven when it all went down? He’s been taking care of you without her ever since. He’s not perfect and he’s not as great as he thinks he is. He’s also a total dick to us sometimes, especially to you, and that’s not fair at all. But he does love us. The four of us...we’re a family, alright? Hell, he’s even taking us out for dinner tonight and I think he really wants to. Just...just try to go a little easier on him. It probably really hurt him when you said that.”

 

Jamal shakes his head and looks out the window, “He hurt me first.”

 

Part of Andre wants to pull over, right there on the freeway, and give his brother a rare hug and figure out what the hell is going on with the kid. But that’s pretty unsafe and Jamal has been so guarded and withdrawn that Andre isn’t sure that a moment of brotherly affection would be welcome anyway.

 

“You hungry?” he asks, changing the subject.

 

“I’m hungry!” Hakeem shouts from the back, perking up at the possibility of food.

 

“Dude, you just ate.”

 

“That doesn’t mean I’m not hungry again,” Hakeem points out.

 

“I’m pretty hungry,” Jamal admits, “I didn’t eat breakfast.”

 

“Dumbass,” Andre mutters before pulling off at an exit, “I think there’s a pizza place off this way. I’ll buy you a couple of slices for lunch.

 

After they’re settled in and chowing down on their pizza, he vaguely remembers that Uncle Vernon wanted to treat him to lunch today. While Andre feels a little guilt about forgetting about it, he’d rather eat pizza with his brothers anyway.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He spends the rest of the afternoon forcing himself to finish his essay and the rest of his homework. He can hear Jamal’s voice and piano through the walls and Hakeem yelling at his video game but he tries to tune them both out, especially Hakeem. At least Jamal is pleasant to listen to, even any type of sound can grate on Andre’s nerves while he’s working.

 

6:30 comes along and Andre leaves his room to get his younger brothers ready to go meet their dad. The place had a fucking dress code and he’s sure his father would chew him out if they didn’t dress to impress. So he tells Jamal to get a shirt and tie on and practically has to hold Hakeem down while he gets the kid looking presentable. 

 

“I look stupid!” Hakeem fumes as he stares at himself in his mirror, “Why can’t we go to Chuck E. Cheese?”

 

“Dad wanted to go here.”

 

“Is he wearing this crap?” Hakeem grumbles.

 

Andre sighs, “Probably. You know that huge closet he has in his office. He has something to wear for everything. Now come on, let’s go.”

 

The three of them get into Andre’s car and make their way to Bistrot La Minette. The place is ridiculously classy and he doesn't feel comfortable going in without his dad there so they wait outside. 

 

They got there about 10 minutes early so Andre isn’t too worried when they have been there for 20 minutes and there is no sign of Lucious Lyon in sight. It’s after 45 minutes when his stomach starts to turn into a sinking pit, which is strange because it’s not the hunger making it that way. But it’s not until having three phone calls go straight to voicemail that Andre makes himself accept that their father isn’t coming. 

 

“Dre, I’m hungry. And my feet hurt,” Hakeem mumbles, face pressed into the side of Andre’s arm because Hakeem is still unfortunately under the impression that Andre can fix any problem that confronts them.

 

“I know,” Andre sighs.

 

“Where’s Dad?” Hakeem presses.

 

“He’s probably busy-”

 

“Don’t downplay it,” Jamal interrupts, “He either conveniently forgot or he just doesn’t give a shit.”

 

Andre opens his mouth to snap at him but nothing comes out. What can he say? That it’s not true? Even Hakeem would catch onto that being bullshit, as much as the kid hero worships Lucious.

 

“Let’s go then,” is all Andre says as he starts to walk back to the car. 

 

“But Dre, I’m hungry,” Hakeem pleads.

 

“We can put some chicken nuggets in the oven and you can have those.”

 

“French Cuisine to Kid Cuisine,” Jamal huffs.

 

“Well, I’m not paying for a 50 dollar meal for an 6 year old, even if it is on Dad’s dollar. It’s wasteful,” Andre glares before getting into the driver’s seat and slamming the door.

 

Andre doesn’t join Jamal and Hakeem as they eat. He makes sure their dinner gets out of the oven without getting burnt before heading upstairs without a word to go lie down in the dark.

 

He doesn’t sleep. Just stares at his fucking ceiling. You’d think that after a few years of this Andre wouldn’t let it get to him anymore. After the debate matches his dad had missed, after the man missed his fucking high school graduation and valedictorian speech...you’d think Andre would just accept what kind of father Lucious Lyon can be. But there have been moments, although sometimes brief, where he can tell his father loves his brothers. That he adores Hakeem, worries about yet admires and respects Jamal. With Andre, it’s a lot harder to pinpoint. Maybe his father respects him for being the closest thing to a familial confidante outside of Cookie. Andre had helped him a lot with Jamal and Hakeem and never expected to be cared for himself, still doesn’t really. But they are so different. Andre doesn’t have the talent that Jamal and Hakeem have, although he feels that he is talented in other ways. Andre just doesn’t think that Lucious feels the same. Fuck, his dad didn’t even want to have dinner with him on his first weekend back.

 

A knock interrupts his darkening thoughts and Andre turns his head to look at the door. 

 

“Dre?”

 

Andre sighs and thinks about saying nothing. Pretending he’s asleep. But Jamal knocks again and Andre finally gives in.

 

“Come in.”

 

Jamal opens the door and looks around, “Were you sleeping?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then why are you sitting in the dark?” Jamal asks as he turns on the overhead light.

 

Andre throws an arm over his eyes and says nothing. He feels the bed shift as Jamal sits next to him and tries to lift his arm.

 

“Dre,” Jamal says softly, “You okay?”

 

“Fine.”

 

“Why are you so quiet and weird then?”

 

“Just my normal disposition and here you are just noticing it after all this time.”

 

Jamal huffs before dropping something light on Andre’s chest.

 

“I didn’t give you this earlier because Hakeem was in the car...and I figured you wouldn’t accept it anyway. But I thought it might make you feel better.”

 

Andre finally lifts his arm off his eyes and bends his head to look at his chest. An envelope. It doesn’t take more than a second to realize who it’s from.

 

“Jamal-”

 

“You don’t want to read it. I get it. But she misses you a lot and asks about you all the time. She made me bring pictures from when you graduated. Just...just think about reading it. Don’t throw it away.”

 

Andre just stares at his younger brother as the kid gets up and leaves the room. He’s alone again.

 

After a few minutes, he picks the envelope up and holds it in between his fingers. He hasn’t read one of her letters in years but Jamal was wrong when he insinuated Andre threw them away. That never happened. They all went into a shoebox he kept in his closet. She had written so many that Andre had to start a third box in the spring.

 

He doesn’t know why he does it, but with shaky hands, he opens the envelope and unfolds the paper inside it.

 

_Dre,_

 

_Jamal told me you are doing well at college. That’s great, baby! I don’t know much about it but I do know that you got into a top school and are studying what you love. I am so SO proud of you and who you’ve grown up to be. I wish that I could see you in person. I understand that you’re not ready. I want you to take your time. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon and you are worth waiting for._

 

_If you want to write back, I would love to hear about your classes and your new friends-_

 

Andre quickly puts the paper down and wipes the moisture out of his eyes. Sniffling, he puts the letter back into the envelope and puts it in the box with the rest without finishing it. He doesn’t want to. 

 

He just puts his things back in his bag before going downstairs to grab his coat. 

 

“Dre?” Hakeem asks, coming into the foyer, “Where you going?”

 

“Back to the dorm,” Andre tells him softly, not even turning around to look at him.

 

“But the weekend’s not over yet!” Hakeem exclaims, “Tomorrow’s Sunday! Why aren’t you staying-”

 

“Because I don’t _want_ to, Hakeem!” Andre shouts as he turns around, harshly and unnecessarily making Hakeem flinch back.

 

Andre takes a calming breath, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, kid. I just need to go, okay? I love you.”

 

“I love you too,” Hakeem surprisingly tells him, “You’ll be back for my birthday party, right?”

 

Andre forces a smile, “Of course. I’ll see you later buddy.”

 

Just as Andre is about to leave, Hakeem runs up to him to give him a hug around his waist.

 

“Bye, Dre,” Hakeem murmurs before stepping away.

 

Andre pats the little boy’s head, “Bye ‘Keem.”

 

Andre closes the door behind him, tries not to focus on his youngest brother’s face peering out the window, gets in his car, and takes off down the driveway.

 

It’s only when Andre can no longer see the house in his rearview mirror that he can breathe properly again.

 

And then he realizes how hungry he really is. 

 

He thinks about waiting until he gets back to the dorms. Maybe order in and just hang out in the lounge. But he doesn’t really want to hang out with anyone right now. He just wants to be by himself and god knows that Bryce will bug him enough once he gets to the room.

 

So he stops by the first diner he sees and it’s also one he’s never been to but almost leaves when he realizes the place is called ‘Empire Diner.’ What a fucking cosmic joke. But he’s already in the parking lot and the sign says that it was established in 1954 anyway, thus it wasn’t made to rake money in on his royal father’s name. So he heads up the steps, gets seated by the owner personally, and waits for his waitress.

 

“Welcome to Empire Diner! My name is Rhonda. What can I get you to drink tonight?” a strangely familiar voice asks.

 

Andre looks up and stares at the girl. Blonde hair, blue eyes, attractive, and definitely the same girl that he got drunk in the bathroom with a few days ago.

 

“Rhonda?” Andre blurts out, surprised.

 

“That’s my name, don’t wear-”

 

Rhonda cuts herself off as she finally looks at him before a smile appears on her face.

 

“Andre! It was Andre, wasn’t it?”

 

Andre nods and Rhonda looks relieved that she got his name right before returning to her notepad.

 

“It’s good to see you again, Andre. So what is your beverage preference?”

 

“Do you have any alcoholic beverages?” Andre can’t help but ask.

 

Rhonda looks at him and quietly says, “Beer, but you know I can’t sell it to you with Mr. Diner Nazi there, right? He looks harmless but he’s a real dick.”

 

“Water’s fine. Thanks.”

 

Rhonda nods and walks off to get his drink as Andre looks at the menu. He decides on a Chicken Ceasar Salad and some fries and gives Rhonda his order when she gets back. Then he just sits there, staring off into the distance. He probably looks strange. He’s not reading a book or the newspaper. He has no one to keep him company. He’s just sitting there alone. 

 

He doesn’t think it’s all that suspicious but Rhonda must think otherwise, especially when Andre decides to just keep drinking decaf coffee after his meal instead of going back to his room. Even though he knows he’s coming off as strange, he is surprised when Rhonda comes down and sits across from him in the booth.

 

“So what’s the matter with you?” She asks, slightly leaning in for the gossip.

 

Andre gives her an odd look before shaking his head, “Nothing.”

 

“Bullshit. I’ve been watching you on and off for the last two and a half hours and all you’ve done is drink decaf coffee with a depressing look on your face. I kept wondering to myself who made you so sad and how in the hell have you not gotten up to pee yet.”

 

Andre says nothing in response and just looks away and out the window. He feels Rhonda’s eyes burning into him but doesn’t expect it when she puts her hand on top of his.

 

“I’m not one to bare my heart and soul either. But I hope that whoever has you so upset realizes that they’re a complete asshole.”

 

Andre lets out a choked laugh, “I think my dad’s realized that by now. He just doesn’t care. In fact, he probably takes pride in it.”

 

He doesn’t know how he was expecting Rhonda, a girl he barely knows, to react to that news. But he hadn’t been expecting her expression to become so sad and for her to nod, as if she knows what he’s talking about.

 

“I get it. I don’t know what happened but...I get shitty parents. More than a lot of people. I’m sorry your dad’s a dick.”

 

“Yeah, me too.”

 

The conversation goes silent for a second before Rhonda clears her throat, “What about your mom?”

 

“She’s in jail. I haven’t gone to visit her in over five years.”

 

Then Andre’s expression goes dark as he elaborates, “I’m probably the asshole there.”

 

Rhonda shrugs, “I’m sure your mom knows it’s not easy for you. It wouldn’t be for most people. Although, at the risk of sounding completely insensitive, I wouldn’t have minded if my mom went to jail while I was growing up. God knows she deserved it.”

 

Andre blinks at that, surprised that such a sweet looking person would say that. Before he can ask her about it, Rhonda stands up. 

 

“Want some pie? It’s on the house.”

 

“It’s okay, I’m not-”

 

“Let me elaborate. My shift is over in 10 minutes and I want a piece of pie. Would you like to share a piece with me so I don’t feel as guilty about the calorie intake?”

 

It’s the first time since the afternoon that Andre has felt even slightly amused so he nods his head and Rhonda nods in return.

 

“Good. Be back in a few.”

 

Andre doesn’t have to wait long for Rhonda return with his bill and her things in one hand and a piece of pie in the other. Throwing her jacket and purse in the opposite side of the booth, Rhonda hands him a fork as she takes the first bite.

 

“Usually I don’t eat after my shift but I only got to finish half of my lunch before my asshat of a boss made me leave my break early,” Rhonda says before she groans, “But god, he makes such good pecan pie. Try some.”

 

Andre huffs out a laugh and takes a bite and, yeah, he can admit that’s it’s pretty fucking good.

 

The conversation is light between them from that point out and Andre feels his mood lifting from it, even though his chest still feels a bit tight. He tips Rhonda well, essentially doubling his bill to her surprise, and pays it in cash. He doesn’t want to make things weird if she recognizes his last name on his card. He likes how things are now.

 

“I better get going,” Rhonda sighs as she starts to slide out of the booth, long after the pie’s gone, “The last bus leaves at 1 am. Thanks for the company.”

 

“You’re taking the bus?” he asks, sliding out as well.

 

“I don’t have a car,” she comments as she puts her coat on, “Never have had one, actually. Money’s going towards my room rate and bus fare but I’m making it work.”

 

“I...I can give you a ride. We’re going to the same area,” he offers.

 

Rhonda looks genuinely surprised, “...Okay. You sure? I live at Stouffer.”

 

“Yeah, it’s completely fine. Save your bus fare.”

 

Rhonda smiles sweetly, “Lead the way then.”

 

Andre heads out first and Rhonda follows. As Andre approaches his car and opens the passenger door for her, Rhonda holds in a laugh before studying the car. 

 

“God, this is top of the line, isn’t it? No wonder you tipped me so much if you can afford this,” Rhonda whistles as she sits down.

 

Andre blushes and shrugs, “It’s just a car.”

 

“Just a car,” Rhonda scoffs, “You realize you are telling that to the girl who was about to take the bus home, right?”

 

Andre winces, “Sorry.”

 

Rhonda waves off his shame and laughs, “It’s fine. You’re a lot more down to earth than Johnathan is.”

 

“Jonathan,” Andre thinks out loud as he pulls out of the parking lot, “Boyfriend, right?”

 

Rhonda rolls her eyes, “Yeah. Boyfriend. I guess.”

 

“That’s an enthusiastic endorsement.”

 

“He’s just trying to be around 75% of the time. I find myself reminding him what a pretentious asshole he can be.”

 

Andre laughs a little, “Is that your type?”

 

Rhonda thinks on it, “No. Driven is my type. Jonathan is talented, smart, and has a steady plan for himself. It’s the personality category he needs to work on.”

 

Andre accepts that answer and he pulls up in front of Stouffer. 

 

“Thanks for the ride,” she tells him as she opens the car door.

 

“Yeah, of course.”

 

Rhonda closes the door waves but, just as Andre puts the car into drive, she knocks on the window.

 

Confused, Andre puts the car back in park and rolls down the passenger window. 

 

Rhonda leans her head in and smiles, “I just want to let you know I put my phone number and email on the back of your receipt. You didn’t turn it over once and just stuck it in your wallet. It’s a travesty to know how many girls’ numbers you have missed out on.”

 

Andre raises his eyebrows, “But what about your boyfriend?”

 

Rhonda gives him a look, “I didn’t mean it like that. Look...I like talking to you. A lot. If Jonathan can’t accept that I want to make friends then fuck him. You’re the most interesting person I’ve met since I started and I want to get to know you. Call me.”

 

Ending on that note, Rhonda turns around and walks toward the front doors of her building. Once she’s safely inside, Andre digs his wallet out of his jeans pocket, finds the receipt inside, and turns it over.

 

**Rhonda Embry**  
**555-0143**  
**REmbry@upenn.edu**

 

Smiling a little and shaking his head, Andre puts the receipt back in his wallet and drives to King’s Court. Tonight ended on a better note than he thought it would.

**Author's Note:**

> If you are reading, please review! I don't think there are many Empire stories so I need to know people are actually reading this to continue. I would also like to thank faceless for the encouragement and her many helpful notes for the second chapter. :)


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